The Finn Factor

by Rachel Bailey

  Unlike Billie, Amelia didn’t blame me for the breakup—she was just so sad about it that it split my heart in two.

  A breeze wafted through the tree outside, so the moonlight appeared to move in the room, landing on the framed photo of our parents and the open gift box on Amelia’s bedside table. The star pendant that Scarlett had given her. She’d loved it, of course, and texted Scarlett to say thank you.

  By screwing up, I’d hurt not only myself and Scarlett, but also my sisters, and I hated that more than I could bear.

  I drifted back to my own bedroom and found Harvey on the bed, asleep, with his teddy bear held protectively under one leg. The night Scarlett had moved out, she’d apparently given him a teddy that she’d had on her bed. It would be covered in her scent and he adored that thing—even though he occasionally chewed its ears. That first night, Harvey had checked all through the house at bedtime for her, then retrieved his teddy and settled in on my bed, which was where he’d slept every night since.

  I pretended to grumble to Amelia and Billie about it, but in reality, I liked that he was there. He was comforting. Kind of like having my own living teddy bear on the end of the bed. Glancing up at the portrait of Harvey above my bed, I had to admit Scarlett had been right when she’d made that for my birthday. I did need Harvey in my life.

  I also needed Scarlett. Burned with that need.

  Even though I’d never have her, I’d probably always need her.

  And on so many levels. On the physical, my body yearned for hers. On the mental, I just wanted to talk to her, find out what she was thinking, what crazy plan or chart she had going now. On the emotional, I needed her beside me, supporting me, challenging me. I was a better person when she was with me. She’d been such a fixture in my life that I hadn’t quite realized what she’d quietly been bringing to it all that time.

  Love. In all its forms, to all aspects of my life.

  I’d thought the best thing about being friends with her was the fun and light that came with her, but I’d been wrong. That had been important, but the best thing she had brought into my life was her big heart.

  That was her gift. She gave and gave and gave.

  There had been years of teddy bear paintings because she thought I needed them. She’d been nurturing to Amelia, and even now that she’d moved out, she’d thought to bring her a present for performing at her concert. She’d made sure Billie had a job and even shared the contents of her closet while Billie built up enough business clothes. She’d been a bridge to my sisters for me when I’d needed it. She’d talked me into keeping Harvey, which gave both the dog and me what we needed, then given him a teddy as well.

  And my heart? I now knew why I’d grown bored with all other girlfriends, then moved into panic when the relationships became serious.

  It all came back to Scarlett.

  After losing my parents I’d been too afraid to love someone, so I’d chosen girls who were “safe.” I knew I wouldn’t fall for them, mainly because they weren’t Scarlett. Safe to date, because ultimately the relationships could never go anywhere. And the woman I’d instinctively known I could love? To love her and lose her was unacceptable, so I’d held her at a distance with one hand, while holding on tight with the other to Best Friend Scarlett, as if that would keep me from being hurt.

  Idiot.

  I’d loved her like crazy for ages. My heart had more love for Scarlett than I would have believed possible.

  I had no idea when it had started. Definitely before we’d begun dating. Before the kissing lessons, too—though they’d probably stirred it to life so it became harder to pretend it didn’t exist.

  Even before she’d moved in with me.

  If I was completely honest, the little flame had probably been lit that very first night we’d met, when she’d turned those huge, trusting hazel eyes to me after I’d protected her from my roommate. I’d fallen head over heels, but the timing had been so abominably wrong, I’d squashed it out before it had a chance to start. Or so I’d thought. Apparently it had flickered away in the background, growing, deepening, all this time. Until I was consumed by it.

  I’d do anything for Scarlett. I’d give up my career, switch to an academic life to give her the stability she needed. Anything.

  Ironically, now that I understood this, it was too late. I used every curse word I knew and made a couple of new ones up as well.

  That door was now closed. She’d never risk a relationship with me again after it blew up in our faces. We played with fire.

  And we both got burned.

  She shouldn’t take a risk on me again. She needed a guy like Rakesh. As soon as it didn’t hurt so much to contemplate—which, admittedly, might be never—I might even set them up together. She, more than anyone I knew, deserved to be happy.

  Scarlett had been giving to everyone around her ever since I’d known her, probably all her life. In that way, she was a lot like her hippie mum. I smiled, thinking that Scarlett probably wouldn’t be pleased to hear how much she was like her mother.

  It was about time someone gave back to her. Trying not to wake Harvey, I climbed into bed. First thing in the morning, I’d get on that.

  Scarlett

  After work, I arrived at Cathy’s apartment about ten minutes after she did, and let myself in. I’d been staying with her since moving out of Finn’s, but she and her roommate were using the only two bedrooms, so I’d been making do with the pull-out sofa. As soon as I had a free day, I really needed to look for a long-term place.

  It would be the first time in years I’d be house-hunting without Finn by my side. He’d always helped me manage the anxiety about moving again, right up until he managed it completely by moving me in with him.

  The thought of not living with him still stole all the warmth from my day, but I finally felt okay about moving somewhere new. Perhaps this was being an adult. More likely it was that, having faced the worst by leaving Finn, everything else seemed small potatoes.

  As I walked into the kitchen, Cathy was leaning against the counter, eyes wide, smile wider.

  “Hey,” I said, hesitating in my step. “Something up?”

  “Oh, nothing out of the usual,” she said, but her entire face was expectant.

  I glanced around for clues, and my gaze snagged on the shiny new freestanding icemaker sitting on the countertop. A gasp escaped my lungs before I could even put two thoughts together.

  “You got an icemaker? I didn’t even know you wanted one.” I moved closer, to touch it. Maybe even stroke it a little. “That’s a top of the range model.” Not that I spent time perusing the home appliances section of the stores or anything.

  “Nope,” Cathy singsonged. “You got an icemaker. And a coffee machine.”

  I spun around to where she was pointing and almost fell to my knees in worship of the gleaming machine that would magically turn roasted beans into a steaming mug of coffee—anytime I wanted.

  Then I registered her words and straightened. “How did I get an icemaker and a coffee machine?”

  “Finn,” she said simply.

  Finn? Even the sound of his name still had the power to make my knees wobble.

  I had to swallow hard before my voice would work. “How?”

  “Billie came to see me and explained that Finn wanted to give you a present, so I gave her the key to the apartment and they dropped them off during her lunch break today.”

  Finn had been here? I glanced around the kitchen and into the small living room with new eyes, as if I could find a trace of him, but everything looked the same as it had five minutes ago.

  I looked back at my pretty, new icemaker. “Billie didn’t say a word at work.” I’d seen her three or four times today, though she had said she already had plans for lunch.

  “Well, duh. That would have kinda ruined the surprise.”

  Finn planned a present for me. He’d gone out and bought things he knew I’d love, arranged for Billie to get the keys, then come in and left them
on the counter.

  It was both a surprise…and not a surprise. When Billie had told him she was going travelling, he wasn’t able to tell her he loved her, but he’d offered to put money away for her. He did whatever it took to give his sisters what they needed, despite not being able to tell them how he felt.

  Other people talked the talk. Finn walked the walk.

  And now he’d given me what he thought I needed.

  “This is a love letter,” I whispered.

  Cathy’s grin faded and she frowned. “The icemaker is a love letter? Are you sure?”

  “Yep.” A beautiful, chrome, gleaming, poetic love letter. “Oh, hell. Please tell me I did the right thing.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t like the icemaker?”

  I let my head fall back on the cupboard door behind me. “About leaving Finn.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  And third and twenty-fourth thoughts. “You would have done the same thing, right?”

  Cathy pulled her mouth to one side, then the other, as if considering her words carefully. “Do you want an honest answer to that, or do you want reassurance?”

  “Reassurance,” I said without hesitating.

  “You absolutely did the right thing. You said from the start you and Finn together was a monumental mistake. If you’d stayed longer, it would only have gotten worse.”

  “Thanks.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, now hit me with the honest answer.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’m probably wrong.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She nodded. “Soft version or blunt?”

  “Blunt version with soft edges?” I said, trying not to wince.

  “Sure.” She assembled her face into a gentle smile. “I think your first instinct is to cut your losses early and run.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant, but suddenly I was uncomfortable. “I run?”

  “Run might be an exaggeration. But how many times did you move house before you moved in with Finn?”

  “Seventeen,” I said, my voice sounding pathetic even to my own ears.

  “In how long?”

  “Two years. But lots of them had conditions no one would put up with. Panty Stealer House. Police Drug Raid House. Eighty-three Pet Mice House.”

  “True, but were there some that only had little things wrong? Things that most shared houses have wrong?”

  “Maybe,” I admitted, since we were doing the honest option.

  “Also, you haven’t finished your degree. Instead you’re working in a job that’s only temporary to you. One where you’re always poised to leave.”

  “Cut and run,” I said faintly.

  “And when I got that weird text from Mike about running into his ex, your first instinct was that I should break up with him, not that I should talk it out with him.”

  “It was a weird text, though, you have to admit.” She raised an eyebrow and waited until I added, “Which was probably more reason to ask him to explain.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “I have a theory. Do you want to hear it, or have you had enough?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat, bracing myself, then opened them. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what was coming, but Cathy wouldn’t be saying it if she didn’t think it could help. And I needed help right now.

  “Go on.”

  “You said you moved around a lot as a kid. You probably didn’t get to have long-term friends, meaning you left before any friendships were tested.” She hoisted herself up on the counter. “In early friendships, everyone is still on best behavior.”

  “But I’ve kept you and Finn as long-term friends.”

  “True. So you can do it.”

  “But once we changed the rules and things got difficult, I did it to him as well. God, I’m a mess.”

  She smiled with sympathy in her eyes. “You still have me.”

  “You should run. Run far. I’m a disaster waiting to happen. Remember I almost ruined your relationship.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She screwed up her nose as she thought about it. “Well, yes, you probably did. But I should have trusted him more in the first place, and you were trying to help.”

  “Like I was trying to help my brother with Annalise. Or Finn with Marnie—or any of the other people he dated.” Another thought hit. “And when things became difficult with my parents recently, I asked Thomas to invite them over instead of addressing things. Basically I did the cut and run by making them move on. I’m a monster.”

  “You’re an imperfect human. Welcome to the club.”

  “You want to know what doesn’t make sense, though?” Caught up in a realization, I didn’t wait for her reply. “I crave stability. Crave it so bad I walked out on the man I love over it.”

  “You’re right. That doesn’t make sense.” She waved a hand. “Ignore my theory. My theory sucks. Mojitos make sense. Let’s make mojitos.”

  I thought back to all those times I’d moved house, to the moment the cut and run instinct had kicked in, looking for the thought or feeling that triggered it. And then I found it, and everything made sense again.

  “This is crazy,” I said, “but what I think happens is I start to feel like things are going to be unstable, or change too much, and I freak. Then I get out before things are too bad.”

  “So you protect yourself from instability by creating instability?” Her expression was full of what-the-hell and I couldn’t blame her.

  What had I been doing to myself? I ran through every possible scenario and it fit the pattern. Cut and run. Even recently with my parents, I’d moved them on to Thomas as soon as their talk with Billie affected the stability of the household.

  “Yeah, pretty much.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and we fell into silence for a minute or so before I could bring myself to admit the worst. “What if there was life left in my relationship with Finn and I ran away before I could find out? Do you think that’s possible?”

  Her expression softened. “It’s a definite possibility that you owe it to yourself to consider.”

  “After all this interfering in other people’s relationships, I’ve basically interfered in my own in the same way. I got out and cut my losses.”

  I glanced again at the gleaming, chrome love letter Finn had sent me.

  Don’t leave me.

  What sort of imbecile would cut and run on a guy like Finn just because she was afraid? Clearly, my kind of imbecile. The kind that figured staying safe and secure was more important than being with a guy who would sneak in to give me an icemaker even when we weren’t together.

  “It comes down to one thing, really,” I said, gaze still on the new kitchen appliances. “I can have the stability I’ve always thought I wanted, but lose out on having Finn. Finn. I’d be crazy to choose that option.”

  Cathy arched an eyebrow. “You’d have to put up with him moving around while you stayed home,” she pointed out. “Or move around with him.”

  I suddenly saw the situation with shining clarity. “But I’d have Finn. Forever. He is my stability, and I’d put up with anything to have him, no question.” I stood. “I have to go.”

  She looked wistfully at the icemaker. “I don’t suppose it’s to get mojito ingredients?” she asked hopefully. “So we can christen this baby?”

  “Nope.” I was out through the door before she could reply.

  Chapter Twenty

  Scarlett

  When I knocked on the front door of Finn’s house, Billie answered. She didn’t say anything, just grinned. Then she turned and went back inside. Wiping my sweaty palms down my trousers, I followed, patting an excited Harvey on the way.

  My heart lurched in my chest when I saw Finn at his new desk. It was covered with haphazard piles of notes and books—as chaotic as the dining table had ever been. I couldn’t see his face, since he hadn’t looked up—he probably hadn’t even heard me knock on the door. He was in his usual position, but he wasn’t wearing his usual pale blue p
olo shirt. Today he wore a black T-shirt. My eyes stung, so I squeezed them shut for a moment.

  “Amelia,” Billie called on her way to the dining table. Even when she reached Finn’s side, he still hadn’t noticed all the movement in the room, apparently engrossed in his research. “Wallet and keys, please,” she said.

  “What?” he said, blinking up at her. Then his gaze landed on me, and he stilled. He reached into his pocket and handed Billie his wallet, then found his keys on top of a pile of books on the table and handed them over as well.

  Amelia came into the room, squealed my name and hugged me. I hugged her back, even though it meant losing eye contact with Finn for a few seconds.

  “Come on,” Billie said to her sister. “We’re going out for burgers. Finn’s treat.”

  When they’d gone, Finn stood but stayed on the other side of the table. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his every feature was so familiar I wanted to run to him, to smooth the hair back from his face, just to touch him. I couldn’t, and that hurt down deep inside.

  “Hey,” he said, his face giving nothing away. Harvey sat at his feet, whining softly.

  “Hey,” I said back. “I just came by to say thank you for the icemaker and coffee machine.”

  “You’re welcome.” He dug his hands into his pockets, and his dark blue gaze became even more serious as he rounded the table. “I realized you’re always giving. It’s what you do. And I thought it was time someone gave back to you.” He stopped in front of me and shrugged. “It’s not much.”

  “It is much.” Harvey darted around behind Finn and started to herd him forward, the way I’d seen Border Collies on TV do with sheep.

  “Harvey, I don’t need any help,” Finn said, and Harvey harrumphed and lay down again.